


so that’s how it is.

by ikmkr



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons and Dragons Homebrew
Genre: 9th-Level Spells, Conditional immortality, Constructs, Death from Old Age, Drow, Elf Lifespans, Extremely Unreliable Narrator, Fear of Death, Gen, Good Drow, Implied Past Trauma, Old Age, Time Ravage (5e) Used Incorrectly, Unreliable Narrator, Wizards, celestials, listen. listen they’re very good friends, magical hijinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24617668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikmkr/pseuds/ikmkr
Summary: all things considering, i suppose it would have gone this way in the end.(a character study on two of my favorite characters, 1000-year lifespans, god-like magical power and the fear of dying.)
Relationships: Izeska Sundown & Ilvis Amaretto, Original Character(s) - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	so that’s how it is.

**Author's Note:**

> so full disclosure; about two months ago i finished writing an 80k D&D campaign in the 5e setting. (we’re playtesting it right now and aside from my party being inconsistent it’s going swimmingly. the material isn’t the issue, and that’s all that matters ahaha) legally, that means I am required to ponder on the matter of how the two elves made from clay eventually die, as the remaining characters that are actually notable are already dead within the narrative. (one was already dead before the story began, but that isn’t the issue at hand here.)  
> basically, get to know my sons.

> _Year 754 (1487 FR)_
> 
> _I think I have made a grave mistake._
> 
> _Ilvis was most likely correct about using that, but I did anyways. I could not help myself._
> 
> _I was afraid to die._

oh god, oh god, oh god. the wrinkles have faded from my hands, just as i predicted they would when i invented this brand of "reverse-time ravage" a couple centuries ago. i always loved my spellwork, even when it defended me when i was young, but right now i cannot love it. i cannot love any of it.

when i breathe in i breathe in air as easily as i did when i was 2 years of age, back when i was in the demiplane, so far away from home. as easily as i did when i was 8 years of age, "gathering" crystals from the cave of dancing lights off the coast. as easily as i did when i settled down at 35, ready to try something less adventurous and hone my craft. as easily as i did when i hit the road again at 80. and at 150, and at 175, and at 340, and again, and again, and again. again, until i succumbed to my elderly body.

the curse of age has been lifted.

i remember 754 years of memories regardless.

oh god, oh god, oh god.

i lied to him. i lied to ilvis. i know i said i would let myself die a natural death but i lied to ilvis. and now ilvis is going to die. and i did not let myself die with him. 

i will have to live 750 more years without him.

i. i cannot tell him. i cannot show him what happened to me. i cannot look him in the eye, in his wrinkled, rainbow-colored eye, after i betrayed him like this. i simply cannot. i have to go, i have to-

oh, and here he comes. oh god. i have been too noisy. shut up, izeska sundown, shut up, shut up. please shut up. _please._ you have to hide this. you have to-

ah, ah, _futuo,_ _filius canis,_ do not look at me, do not perceive me, 

his hands are on my face and i can feel the wrinkles of his skin. he is shrunken and old, and his once flowing and jaunty head of white hair is clipped and close to his head. he reminds me of rotting fruit. he is dying. 

he is dying. i am not, because of what i did. he is dying.

our lifespan- no, _his_ lifespan, has come to an end.

he- ah, he is embracing me now. i. i believe i may be crying.

i am crying. i do not want him to go. i want to reset time itself. i want to take him with me, i want him by my side. i want all of that and more and yet-

i doubt he will want any of it.

"ilvis," i beg of him, quietly, grabbing onto his shirt. "please. please let me use the time spell on you tomorrow. i can take a rest, like we always do when we run out of energy to cast things this big, and i can send you back to 733. just like when we were fledglings. you remember 733, right? we did not even know there was a system of even measuring years to begin with. 'year 1', we called it. were we even together at that time? i think i was wandering. i-" i squeeze the fabric tighter and i bury my face into the cloth. for dear life, he is my tether. my dearest friend, my only confidant. the only one who could ever understand. we were of the same clay. even if our skin tones were different, his blue-black, wrinkled hand against my pale, smooth one. he would understand. we were always the same.

but he smiles, and he sighs, and he looks away. "no, izeska. no. i'm sorry." his gaze is distant, and i hate it. i hate it so fucking much. "i've lived long enough. and i will live for a bit longer still. you know how we drow are. a bit longer-lived. we still have a bit of time left. hopefully then you can reconcile with your grief."

and he squeezes my hands, and he stands up, and he walks out of the room, and he leaves me there.

i have never seen him look that disappointed in my life. and i have lived a long life, and will continue to live a long one.

i have 750 more years on my clock, after all.

_Year 756 (1489 FR)_

so far, my de-aging has led to no complications.

surprisingly, however, i am feeling emotions to the intensity that i did when i was fresh. my youth has invigorated my entire being, and an old buried part of me is considering going adventuring again. 

but i cannot. i still must tend to ilvis. he is still as elderly as ever.

he is not... remembering things as sharply as i am. maybe it is because my body is the pinnacle of youth now. maybe my memory _was_ poorer when i was more elderly. and i completely missed it! ah. some memory from a person boasting about how sharp his is. 

but regardless, he is still hard of hearing, and his back is tight, and his limbs are all knobbly and boney. 

it is an odd, sharp contrast, waking up in the morning and seeing him in the kitchen, all old. i had forgotten, for a second, that i had ever been old to begin with.

_Year 778 (1511 FR)_

> hey, ilvis? do you remember when we first reunited?
> 
> oh, certainly. i was sitting in the town by the bay... vento...bursar...?
> 
> vento...cherse?... vevore...? ah, i cannot remember either.
> 
> ...ventoversa?
> 
> oh! yes! yes! that one! that was the place.
> 
> they had excellent, excellent sandwiches. and a beautiful _ristorante_ by the bay... oh, wait, can you give me a moment?
> 
> is it your patron again? caesar? tell him i give him my regards.
> 
> yes. ah, i see. that would explain the language similarity. caesar would like to inform the both of us that ventoversa is where he grew up.
> 
> the town is _that old???_
> 
> indeed. i mean, we have not been back in ages. that would make it... roughly... oh, me, 
> 
> over one thousand years old. i wonder if it has grown into a city yet.
> 
> oh, i would not be surprised. the town was diverse, but mostly populated by humans. you know how humans are. they get everywhere and do not leave.
> 
> it was... from the little i saw of it... i hope a new kraken has not come back to destroy it. oh, my, but continue the story, i like hearing it from your perspective.
> 
> yes, absolutely. so i was sitting in ventoversa, sipping a _limonada_ in the town square, and this _band of travelers_ arrives. oh, fools. they are probably likely all dead now, excluding the pixie. _l'età scopa con tutti noi,_ indeed. regardless, they come running up to me in a rush, the whole band of them, and take me by the hand and drag me off to the north. and they keep going for a couple miles.
> 
> woah... i figured it was a ways out, but wow...
> 
> i may have misremembered the final details. no matter. they drag me into this absolutely odd cave, and oh, right there, right in the corner like an awful little gremlin, hiding in the crystals! there you were! _stealing!_
> 
> i certainly did that a lot. oh, to struggle to survive...
> 
> you were, and still are, to an extent, a frightened little fawn. that is alright. you were badly hurt, back then, and even 800 years cannot erase that sort of pain, can it?
> 
> no. no it cannot. 
> 
> but you are surviving, yes? 
> 
> indeed. i suppose the pain has lessened, some.
> 
> that is good. ah, but when i saw you then, i simply had to just drag you out of there. i carried you kicking and screaming for two miles back into town, and then simply hoisted you over my shoulder and carried you to my room, and sat you down there. and i gave you a _stern talking-to._ ah... to be young...
> 
> then why not be?
> 
> ...
> 
> come on ilvis, please, we could be just as young as we were back then-
> 
> no. as i said previously, i have lived a fulfilling life. i have no need to prolong the inevitable.

_Year 886 (1619 AD)_

the world has gotten quieter now. it appears we have entered a new era. they call it "present day". apparently, ilvis and i have been alive long enough to see "the age of humanity" and the "era of upheaval" reach their completion. i was briefly taught about basic history... within that _tower,_ but upon hearing about this, i was spurred into learning more about the history of faerûn. such a war-torn, bloody land... and to think that humans have only been able to write for 4 millennia... now i understand why my elven brethren look down upon them so. they are a young race, fresh and new.

ah, i am beginning to sound like them. i am old.

ilvis is older. physically. and he has also gotten quieter. i believe he is soon to be dead. he is having trouble walking now, and i catch him leaning up against chairs and the like to get around without stumbling. i fear for his health. soon i figure i will find myself carrying him myself; as he ages, he gets lighter, and eats less. even someone as scrawny as myself may have no issue getting him around.

_Year 930 (1663 AD)_

ilvis is screaming. oh god. he is screaming.

he is screaming and i do not know what to do.

i dart in there. being restored to my previous form is liberating. i do believe i have become even more dexterous than i was, if that is at all possible. or maybe i am just afraid. i am so afraid.

i am so very afraid.

"izeska, _non riesco a vedere, non riesco a vedere_ \- izeska, _aiutami_ , izeska, _dove sei_ -"

his voice is weaker each day. his beautiful eyes were getting milkier and milkier by the day but i paid no mind to it. but now i do. he cannot see. ilvis has gone blind.

i grasp his arm gently and he shudders. i do believe he is still not used to me being this young. it has been a hundred years at least, maybe two! this is too long to adjust, even by elven standards! he is old. 

he is so very old.

"izeska, is that you? please tell me it is you."

"it is me." i sigh. "i think. i think you will have to stay in bed for a few weeks or so, until you adjust. to. not being able to see."

"...do you not have any magic to reverse this?"

"the only thing i can do is de-age you." i turn my head away in desperation, knowing full well he cannot see it. "there is no other known magic to prevent the onset of old age that is legal anymore. you know why."

ilvis worries his lip, then sighs. "then i am blind."

_Year 978 (1701 AD)_

ilvis has developed a very severe cough. i can hear how waterlogged his lungs are when he breathes. it is a scant reminder that we, despite coming from clay, have internal organs.

he laughs it off when i bring it up.

_Year 979 (1702 AD)_

ilvis stopped breathing while he slept. i woke him up once i realized it, and he started coughing and breathing again, but i was haunted by how close he danced with death. 

i do not think there is much time left.

_Year 979 (1702 AD)_

ilvis stopped me once, before i went to retire to my quarters. he clasped my hand in his own. 

"izeska," he breathed, voice rattly, "when i die, i will always be with you. i am sure of it."

for a moment there, his eyes shined. not with the light reflecting off of them, but with their own light. i recognized it from somewhere, but i could not place where.

i could not help it. i recoiled.

i am lucky he is blind.

_Year 980 (1703 AD)_

ilvis passed away.

i buried him quietly in a plot by the seaside. the sea reminds me of him, in a way. the way he laughed, so freely, like the ocean breeze. the way his inner light shined out of him like the light shined off of the water's surface. the way he played his harp on the docks whenever we would stop near the sea.

i stopped to admire my handiwork. the varicolored advocate deserved so much more than i gave him, a king's tomb. and i had the money to give him one. but i bet he would have hated something gaudy. 

so instead, i made him something myself. pulled a rock from the earth and used just a sampling of my magic to etch upon its surface. it is nearly unmarked aside from the sigil i left behind. it is plain. it is simple. like him at heart.

_it's beautiful, izeska,_ a voice, warm and familiar, sings in my ear. _thank you._ i cannot tell if it is my brain playing tricks on me, so i ignored it.

a feather fell through the corner of my vision.

_Year 1000 (1733 AD)_

i have lived a millenia.

after 20 years, it still hurts. but i cannot go back now. i made the choice to extend my life pre-emptively, and now i must lie in the grave i dug.

_Year 1046 (1776 AD)_

i heard that a new nation has formed on the other continent.

_Year 1146 (1876 AD)_

humans learned to harness the power of electricity nonmagically. how curious...

_Year 1212 (1945 AD)_

humans made a weapon that could devastate life as we know it. 'tis a shame magic has died out of practice. if they were to use it, i would be the only survivor...

_Year 1540 (2273 AD)_

i reset my body again.

_Year 2230 (2963 AD)_

i reset my body again.

_Year 3004 (3737 AD)_

i reset my body again...

**Author's Note:**

> izeska and ilvis both can speak Celestial; however, there is no written language for this, so i used latin. 
> 
> _futuo, filius canis:_ fuck, son of a bitch
> 
> ilvis can speak italian as well. 
> 
> _ristorante:_ restaurant  
>  _l'età scopa con tutti noi:_ age fucks with us all  
>  _non riesco a vedere:_ i cannot see  
>  _aiutami:_ help me  
>  _dove sei:_ where are you
> 
> this is a new thing and i really hope this blows over well


End file.
